A hairy situation

Well, the beard continues to grow. Not really what you’d call a full beard yet, but getting there. The weird bit is looking in the mirror, and taking a second or two to realise it’s you. And whenever I’m at my desk, leaning on my chin, I end up fondling it.

I’ll keep it for the moment, let it grow another week, then decide. Unless I spot a grey hair – in that case, I may just freak out and immediately shave the whole thing into oblivion.

…Meanwhile…

Somehow I never thought that plucking nose hair could be quite as painful as it’s reputed to be. From time to time I’ve used a pair of tweezers we have in the house which are extremely good for plucking, to take out various rogue hairs that I’ve noticed on my face just after shaving.

This morning, I was just making sure the beard hadn’t sprouted anywhere it shouldn’t, when I noticed the alarming length of some of my nose hair. Okay, so it’s not actually flowing out of my nostrils and joining the moustache, but it’s definitely visible.

I thought I could see a few loose hairs, and wondered what would happen if I tried to pluck them. My hand, with the tweezers, moved up towards them. I gripped a couple of the hairs and… pull.

Oh, shit! Oh, fucking hell! Jesus Christ!

I’m sorry if you feel offended by this use of coarse language, but if you’ve ever tried plucking your own nostril hair, you’ll know it’s entirely justified. Saying "Gosh, that hurt quite a lot", just doesn’t cut it.

The term "pain" is barely adequate to describe the sensation. It’s more like an urgent emergency crisis signal, sent direct to the brain, then out again to all parts of the body. A bit like a tiny epileptic attack, the whole body goes into a little spasm, and you spend the next ten minutes asking yourself why you were so stupid to even try it.